


The Road Less Travelled

by ivythecreator



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Astrid Hofferson, BAMF Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, Family Bonding, Magic, Original Mythology, Other, Roadtrip, Sad with a Happy Ending, Teenage Zephyr, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25226308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivythecreator/pseuds/ivythecreator
Summary: On his deathbed, he made his last wish: His ash was to be released on the tallest peak in all of Midgard. Then he drew his last breath, leaving behind two fractured souls. Devastated, Astrid and Zephyr set out to accomplish his final wish -- no matter the cost.(Heavily inspired by God of War 4)
Relationships: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III/Astrid Hofferson, Zephyr Haddock & Astrid Hofferson
Kudos: 10





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q3C14m1Dono 
> 
> (I recommend listening to this while reading this chapter).

Zephyr shut her right eye, easing her hands above a cacophony of runic stones until each rock hummed ominously, pulsating with energy. She steadied her quivering arms while concentrating her gaze on the stones. Slowly, the stones began to levitate into the air, swirling around her crouched form. Her arms were shaking again. She drew in some air.

She had one chance -- one chance to align the rocks vertically.

 _Inhale, exhale. Focus._ Her heart was racing that it felt deafening. Images flashed throughout her mind, to and fro, moving faster than the blood that was coursing through her forehead. Suddenly, she felt a sting of pain from her arm, causing her to lose her concentration. One by one, the stones fell onto the ground. Her eyes dart around her as she watched all of her hard work was undone. She drew in another breath and eased her shoulders. Softly, she recited an incantation that her mother had taught her a few months ago. She prayed to the Gods that her spell worked. One by one, the fallen stones returned into the air. Zephyr perked at the sight. With renewed vigour, she recited the incantation again and, slowly, the stones began to twirl around her. 

She could hardly contain her excitement. The stones began to hum in unison, producing a strange, high pitched frequency that shook the very ground beneath them. Moments later, the stones began to twirl faster than before, blowing away any leaves around her. She giggled excitedly and, with grace, stood up from her position. _Be one with the earth._ She took a step forward, forcing her right leg to bend slightly while she pushed her left leg fully to the back. The air around her was getting thinner as the stones moved faster and faster. She took a deep breath, but it was too little. She needed more air. An avalanche of thoughts crashed into her mind, urging her to break her stance to get more air. Like an arrow that was knocked too early, she moved her body slightly to the front, which proved to be a fatal mistake. A stray stone flew away from the small tornado and whacked Zephyr on the stomach. She let out a sharp yelp before collapsing onto the ground, clutching her stomach to null the pain. 

"Discipline, Zephyr! Steel yourselves from those thoughts. They are a distraction, an obstacle to your objective," she turned to see her mother, standing tall, carrying a dead fox on her left shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she said reflexively. She shone her radiant, blue eyes and pleaded forgiveness, though she did not understood why she apologised. Her father had always encouraged her whenever she made mistakes, pointing out on her flaws and made small remarks on how she can improve. He was forgiving, unlike her mother, who feels as if every mistake she makes is a curse from the Gods themselves. It seemed that all she ever did was apologise to her mother for her mistakes. And where her father never showed the slightest hint of annoyance in her eyes.

"Don't be sorry. Be better," Astrid stammered. She paused. "Come, girl. He waits for you," she continued, her voice devoid of any emotion.

"Can you help me out?" she asked quietly. Astrid paused for a moment. Se dropped the fox onto the ground and helped Zephyr pick up the stones that were scattered about the area. Zephyr opened her leather pouch widely, watching her mother closely as he poured the stones into the bag. She strapped the pouch onto her belt and grabbed her staff off of the ground. When they left the ritual grounds, she did not rush to her mother's hands, opting to clutch her staff tightly as they drew closer to their home. 

Zephyr huddled closer into her wolf-skin coat to stave off the chill in the air. She watched her mother drop the fox into a wooden box, along with a plethora of other animals she had killed during her hunt. She tried to understand why her mother was so cold towards her. She tried to accept it, but deep down in her core, she felt her anger festering within. She sighed, tempering her rage. It almost seemed as if she was a stranger. Shaking the thought away, she walked to the door, her head lowered slightly until she saw the tip of her shoes. She glanced over her shoulder and saw her mother stacking a pile of firewood into the shape of a cube. "She'll come in soon," she assured herself. For now, there were other matters to attend to.

She stared at the clothed figure before her with a sadness that tugged her heart. Her beloved father was gone, taken away too soon by an incurable sickness. The man that brought her so much joy was but a corpse now, resting peacefully on the table. The air was thick with the smell of lavender and wax -- a gift given to them by a woman whose identity was shrouded in mystery. She gently grabbed one of the candles, hovering the stick to the two other sticks that remained unlit. _One for her and one for her mother,_ she thought. Zephyr held her father's hands -- or where they should be. She could hardly tell through the heavy layers of cloth that covered his body. Her eyes were wet with tears. She hated this. Out of all the people in the world, the Gods had to take her father's life away from her. She cursed the Gods for such a cruel fate. All she has left is her mother, who is... less than ideal to be around. She gripped her father's hand even tighter.

The door opened behind her, basking Zephyr in a wave of white light. Her mother stood in front of the door, staring at the body for a moment. She patted Zephyr's shoulder. "Get ready, Zephyr. Remember your training," the young mender rose from her position and took one final glance at the body. She leaned in to Hiccup's head, muttering words that Astrid did not understand. She raced out of the door, leaving her mother alone in the room. She kneeled down, bringing herself closer to her lover's head. "I love you," she said quietly. She picked up Hiccup's body from the table. His body was cold and there were signs of frosting on the tip of his foot. 

Outside, Zephyr was busy drawing runic inscriptions on the firewood. She waved her staff in the air, its orb pulsating with energy. Astrid staggered slightly when a wave of pressure flushed against her body. The red-haired girl struck her staff into the ground, dispelling the aura completely. Tiny sparks of light floated about the area like fireflies in the dead of night. Zephyr had her head low to the ground. Without uttering a single word, Astrid laid Hiccup's body onto the pile of firewood. She walked away from the body, her eyes still fixed on Hiccup's lifeless form. She glanced over to Zephyr with knowing eyes. The girl nodded.

" _Igni,_ " the pyre was engulfed in flames, shrouding the clothed figure in a black smog.

"May you find your place in Valhalla," Zephyr perked up, glancing over her mother's looming form. Her hair shone brightly against the sunlit sky, though it had begun to shown signs of aging in some parts of her hair. Her eyes were as fierce as the toughest Valkyries -- in fact, she would not be surprised if her mother was one herself. However, as they watched Hiccup's body wither into ashes, she noticed something quite peculiar. Beads of tears streaked down across her cheek. For a moment, she felt real. She paced a few steps back and turned away from the pyre. She stood completely still, staring longingly into the forests. The land was covered in a thick layer of snow that stretched as far as the eye could see. Critters jump to and fro, wandering aimlessly around the forest. In the air, a pair of mocking jays beat their wings and flew farther away from the ground until they were but specks in the sky. "Get your stuff, Zephyr. We're leaving soon," she said quietly.

Zephyr nodded. She rushed into their home, scouring the cabinets for pieces of dried meat for the journey ahead. She grabbed a pouch full of her herbs. The smell was intoxicating, even through the cloth of the pouch. She felt her nose shut, eyes watering, as she took in the scent of the herbs. As much as she hated the stench, they would need it soon. Zephyr continued scavenging around the house for anything that will be of some substance for their journey, from food to mushrooms. Who knows what they will face on the path to Berkpiggen. She wished her father had given them an easier task, but the Gods worked in mysterious ways. She only wished that her father can finally rest in peace when they spread his ashes on the tallest peak of Midgard -- wherever that is. 

She walked back out into the wilderness. Her mother waited patiently, standing still, the hilt of her axe planted firmly into the ground. She glanced over her shoulder and motioned her head forward. Her mother had the command of a giant. A breeze of wind blew against her, swaying her coat left and right as if followed the flow of the air. For a moment, Zephyr noticed the pouch strapped onto the back of her belt. She felt her shoulders loosen, as if some unknown pressure had been lifted from her shoulders. They were together again, even if the circumstances were less than ideal. She did not mind. He will finally rest in peace; and after many years of love, the least she can do is fulfill his last wish. She stood by her mother's side, watching the sun set below the horizon. She could hear wolves howling somewhere deep in the forest. Instinctively, she grabbed her mother's hand and gripped it tightly. "We have a long journey ahead of us, Zephyr. Your training will be put to the test. There's no telling what danger awaits us beyond this forest," she said. 

"I know," Zephyr replied.

"But to what end? Come, girl. Let's not keep the Gods waiting," Zephyr gazed at their home one last time. The house was basked in a soft, orange hue; their shadows cast across the ground. She swallowed the emotions that were coursing through her head. It will be a while until she will see this sight again. She looked at her mother, who had taken off without her, leading their merry band deeper into the forest. She prayed to the Gods for a safe journey and took her first steps into the unknown.


	2. Chapter 1

_"Lost time is never found again,"_

_\- Unknown_

* * *

The forest was unusually quiet.

Zephyr sat idly against a rock, sharpening her mother's ax with an ivory-white whetstone. The moon hung above the sky, casting its soft light upon the camp. There were no clouds that night; the stars were brighter than the fiercest fires. Facing opposite to her was Astrid, sleeping soundly to the cracking of the bonfire. It had been a long day. They spent the better half of the day walking, navigating the tight corridors of trees that spanned for miles without end. Winter had come, and with it, the forest was washed with orange leaves, floating about until they land gracefully on the ground. She cursed at herself for being ignorant of that spiked branch. Had she cleared the leaves, she would not have been injured. They would be well on their way to Berkpiggen.

She looked up at the stars, how small, yet beautiful they were. She traced the outlines of a constellation -- Hellewagen. Seeing the stars made her feel empty inside. She did not feel the same rush of joy when she went out stargazing with her father. He spoke of the sky as if he had lived there himself, pointing out all the constellations and their meanings. Mother would join them from time to time, but those moments were fleeting. Zephyr wondered whether her mother is capable of showing any sort of emotions. She shook the thought away. Despite all her flaws, she was still human -- and that fact gave Zephyr some solace. Perhaps one day, she will show her true colours; but that day is far beyond her reach. She will show her what she is capable of.

She inspected the ax, grazing the sharp edges of the blade with her fingertips. Zephyr smiled at the results. The steel had deteriorated considerably since she last sharpened the head, but even with its imperfections, she could still pick apart the intricate carvings engraved onto the steel. She was particularly fond of the runes etched on the bit. Ice, it reads. A perfect name for someone like her mother. She remembered the day her mother got her ax vividly. Under the blazing heat of the sun, her mother fought toe to toe with a frost troll -- a peculiar sight to see in the middle of summer, but that is Midgard. She hid behind a rock as she watched Astrid climbed up the troll's back before she stabbed it repeatedly in its eyes. The monster let out a terrible screech and threw her mother against the cliffside. However, in doing so, it had unknowingly let loose its trophies, sending dozens of weapons hurling into the air. Her mother clawed her way towards the ax. Zephyr would never forget the look of her mother's face, how pale it was, like a man whose life had been unwillingly taken away by the decrepit fingers of death.

With bated breath, she lift her staff into the air. The staff released a pulse of energy, which glowed so brightly that the light of the sun paled in comparison to its majesty. The troll covered his eyes with his ugly paws. What happened next, she was not sure, as the troll threw a broken plank of wood nearby at Zephyr, knocking her unconscious. By the time she woke up, her father was by her side, tending to her wounds while her mother, distant as ever, polished her new ax with her whetstone. She yawned. Glancing over, she noticed that the fire had went out. Her mother had changed her position, her body facing upwards. 

"Zephyr," said Astrid. Zephyr jolted in surprise and glanced over at her mother, whose eyes were wide open, staring the stars twinkle above her. 

"Yes, mother?"

"Have you ever heard of the story of Sareema?" she rose from her makeshift bed and walked over to the bonfire. Zephyr watched her mother in silence as she reignited the fire. Her face was illuminated by the fire. She observed her mother's stature -- she looked tense, yet her brilliant blue eyes told a different story. They looked weary, as if she carried a burden greater than the Goddess Helda, who was cursed to ferry the unfortunate souls who did not die in battle to the darkest corners of the World Tree. Maybe her rest was interrupted by the scraping of stone against steel, which would explain the dark circles under her eyes. Maybe...

Zephyr shook her head. "I think Nana told it to me once before bed," she smiled at the thought of her grandmother. Her hands, though hard, were smoother than silk. She would watch in amazement whenever she was outside of her hut, conjuring mystical spells that brought life to wherever it touched. 

Astrid sat back and watched the flames flicker before her. "It's about a young woman who sacrifices everything she held dear, so she can be reunited with her beloved," she paused. "In the end, the fates did just that. When she woke up, she found her father dead on the floor,"

The young mage itched closer to Astrid, her curiosity piqued. "What happens next?" she asked. Astrid closed her eyes for a moment.

"She killed herself. That is it,"

"That's it?"

Astrid nodded. "Yes." 

"Did the girl ever met up with the husband again?"

"Only the Gods know of their true fate," she shrugged. She produced a small loaf of bread from one of the satchels, inspecting it closely. 

Zephyr watched her mother take her first bite into the loaf of bread. "That's not a very good story,"

"Oh? How so?" Astrid asked as he devoured her meal.

"Well, stories are supposed to be interesting, with some high points to make things interesting. That's what father told me once," she explained. Astrid glanced at her for a moment, her mother's eyes vacant of any expression. She sighed.

"Sounds like him, alright," she said nonchalantly. Zephyr felt her blood boil, but thought better. Perhaps that is how her mother copes with tragedies. She took a deep breathe, the air crisp, and exhaled. "Stories aren't told to entertain. They are told as a lesson," another bite. "Like the hare and the frog,"

Zephyr tilted her head in confusion. "But what lesson is there to be told with a story that bleak?" she said innocently. Silence hung over them; a moment, an eternity. 

Astrid smiled. "I've asked that question many times," she said cryptically as she stared into the fire. Zephyr scratched her head at the response; she could not help it when her emotionless mother was smiling. It did not last long until her mother was barking orders at her again, but for a minute, Zephyr felt as if her world had been turned upside down. Maybe there was more to her mother than what meets the eye. As she looked up at the night sky once more from the cozy confines of her makeshift bed, the warmth of the fire licking her blanket, she set herself on a dangerous, new quest -- one that would lead her to the truth behind the woman sleeping opposite to her.

One day.

One day...

* * *

_Her world was gone._

_In her lover's arms, a child branded with a mark -- a red snake encircling a white, cracked orb. He sat motionless as their child cried endlessly at the inky blackness of the night sky. She rowed with all of her might until she could no longer feel the sting of fire against her snow-pale skin. Her lover's mother had her head lowered, clutching her staff tightly. Her arms were frailer than rotten wood and her body was exhausted beyond belief._

_Lyr's waves were_ _harsh and full of hate. Once in a while, a gigantic tide would come hurling towards their tiny boat, only for Valka to split the waves like heroes of yore. However, an old elder cannot beat the Goddess of the Sea. Their boat was flung around, as if it was a plaything for the waves. The rain did not help either, covering the terrible waves with a thick layer of mist._

 _Another wave. It was the tallest wave Astrid had ever seen, almost measuring up to a hundred metres in height. She did not even need to wince her eyes to see the titanic scale of the wave. She veered the boat to the left in a desperate gamble to escape its clutches, but it was too late. She felt the boat rise as the wave caught it in its devilish grasp._ This was it, _she thought. They were going to die, and it was all her fault. Forget the promise of glory, forget the crash and smash of the warriors in Valhalla, the valkyries would laugh at her face when they record her last moments, muttering words like a mad man. She cursed to the Gods for the fate she founded herself in. "The Gods are cruel," she thought to herself again. She closed her eyes and waited for the wave to crash against her weakened body; but that fate did not come. In her last few moments of consciousness, she opened her eyes to see Valka, standing taller than the greatest of kings, raising her staff into the air. The orb at the top of the staff shone brightly. So magical was the light that the night sky had disappeared entirely, replaced by the gentle kiss of daylight._

_When she closed her eyes again, she found no light._

_Only the chilly embrace of darkness._

_***_

Astrid woke up to the chilly breeze of winter. Her heart was racing, pounding loudly amidst the quiet backdrop of the forest. She looked to her hand and sighed. Another nightmare. She clenched her hand into a fist. _'That's the third time in a row_ ,' she muttered under her breath.

A pregnant pause. 

Right.

She glanced over Zephyr's bed, only to find it empty. Her eyes widened slightly. Slowly, she rose from the ground and inspected the campfire for her daughter's whereabouts. She grazed the surface of the blanket, her hands still drenched in sweat. The dirt beneath the bed was still fresh, and the dry remains of the leaves around her position had not been blown away by the wind. She raised her head and noticed the small, nimble footsteps of a child. Astrid sighed -- whether it was relief or frustration, she could not tell; but she knew what had to be done. She returned to her bed, picking up the copious amounts of resources she gathered and placed them in a small sack attached to her belt. Beside her bed, her axe hummed ominously, its runes flickering into life before fading again moments later. She picked up her weapon, her magnum opus. A relic from a bygone age. She shook her head and, with renewed vigour, stormed off to find Zephyr.

Fortunately for Astrid, she did not have to look far, as she found the young mage floating in the air, encased in a ball of pure energy. The ground below her barely shifted; not even the leaves were fazed by the ritual above them. Her words echoed throughout the forest like a wolf's howl, but as she peered deeper into the ball, Astrid felt the strain in her daughter's voice. She hid behind a fallen log, kneeling so deeply that she felt her leg softly pressed her chest. She watched from afar, her eyes dazzling as she looked at Zephyr in disbelief. The auburn-red girl slowly rose her staff into the air, the orb placed carefully on the top of the tool shining brightly a deep purple hue which blanketed the nearby landscape. Trees that were once leafless and empty sprung back to life; flowers of all shapes and colours bloomed beautifully; and the chatter of wildlife filled the area with life. 

And on her right arm, Zephyr's mark glowed. 

Astrid took a few steps back, carefully watching her steps while she watched Zephyr worked her wonders. However, fate had a different plan in mind. As she slowly headed back to the campsite, she stepped on a dry, pinewood branch. She cringed; the crack of the branch quickly overpowering the quiet hums emanated from Zephyr's orb. The girl suddenly opened her eyes and visibly recoiled when she spotted her mother, her face flushed with silent astonishment. She felt herself lose her balance. The ball that permeated around her dissipated into mist and the plant life that were touched by Zephyr's grace withered quickly, crumpling back into their lifeless states. Zephyr dropped to the ground, landing harshly against the ground.

The shield maiden walked over to her daughter, slow and steady. Her shadow loomed over the young girl. She reached out for Zephyr's hand, picking her up from the ground. The mage's hands were cold and devoid of any of her usual pigmentation. Zephyr meekly shook her mother's hands off of her hand and hurriedly picked up the staff from the ground, its orb still emitting traces of magic. "What spell was that?" Astrid said, her eyes fixed onto Zephyr's.

The auburn-haired girl rubbed her nape nervously. "T'was Nana's spell... she taught me before," she trailed off. Astrid nodded reassuringly. Valka's loss brought a great deal of pain onto the family. She and Hiccup shared a spark that she longed to have: Peace.

The irony of it all. A shield maiden who wants peace.

"It was good," she commented. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel her daughter's smile bursting from her face. "Then what was the spell that you were trying to perform right before we left?" Astrid asked.

Zephyr tilted her head slightly. "I thought you knew?" she replied.

"I didn't. All magic requires concentration -- just like how a warrior needs patience to deal with his opponent," she glanced at Zephyr's mark, its bright glow fading away ever so slowly. 

"I suppose so. But magic is much more than _just_ concentration," Zephyr retorted. Astrid shook her head, her eyes half-closed.

Astrid pointed at Zephyr's arm, her eyes fixed on her mark. "Why did it glow here and not before?"

Zephyr perked her head in confusion before shrugging. "I think it has a mind of its own," she remarked sarcastically, smiling cheekily at Astrid.

"I would not be surprised," Astrid replied vaguely.

In the corner of her eye, she saw Zephyr flinch. 

Astrid raised his head high and sighed. "Come, girl. We've wasted enough time here," she squinted her eyes as she estimated the sun's position. The sun should be at its highest in an hour from now, so they should move quickly if they want to make up for the time they lost. She hopped slightly, pushing the strap of her axe closer to her neck. She sighed. Astrid felt comfortable with her axe. After all, an object cannot hate a person.

The two navigated the maze of trees in silence, gesturing at a fallen tree every once and a while. As they ventured deeper, she took note of the growing scarcity of trees in the area. They must be close to the edge of the forest. Yet, as they marched onward, she could not help but feel an itch crawling on her skin. She stopped. Zephyr, who had walked ahead of her, glanced over her shoulder and stopped as well. Slowly, Astrid walked towards a fallen log. There were marks etched onto the bark -- fine cuts, deeper than a wolf's claws. She stroked the cut, her eyes closed. When her daughter moved in to stand by her side, she opened her eyes. 

"So?" the auburn-hair girl asked inquisitively.

Astrid let her fingers linger in the cut for a moment. "There are people nearby," she said, suppressing any notes of surprise in her voice. She did not expect people to be so close to their homes. Even after they settled down, she had scarcely seen any signs of human activity in the forest, safe for the occasional skeleton or two. With her gifted eyes, she observed the log closely, glancing at it from tip to tip. She noticed a loose rope lying on the ground. Beside it was the body of a man -- at least, that is what she thinks. The only body part that survived were the legs; the rest were presumably crushed by tree. She took note of the rope once more, whose other end was missing. She glanced over at the corpse and realised that the rope led to where it should have been his neck. "This one's been gone for a long time," she whispered to herself.

"Mum, look!" Astrid turned to face her daughter's direction. The little mage was pointing at a bloody trail. Astrid walked over to the trail. Crouching, she inspected the trail carefully, plucking her finger into a part of the snow that was stained in blood. She looked around the footprints to see another set of tracks. The paws sunk deeply into the snow -- deeper than any dog she knew, with the exception of one species. She noted the size of the paws, which were twice as large as the paw of a regular wolf. She cursed under her breath. Zephyr felt her face pale. "It can't be what..."

"Girl," Astrid stood up, her posture oozing confidence. "Do not run when you see them. I want you to keep your guard up at all times," Astrid ordered, her fists clutched. Deep down in her heart, she did not know whether she should be afraid or excited. The thrill of the hunt had always flown through her blood, and this was no exception.

Zephyr gripped her staff tightly. "But these are direwolves! They're probably fifty times bigger than any rabbit I've practiced with," she uttered quickly, her voice filled with panic.

Astrid nodded. "Stay close, then. If a fight breaks out, don't get in my way. Do I make myself clear?" Zephyr nodded rapidly. The shieldmaiden suppressed the urge to chuckle. She procured her axe its strap and gripped it firmly in her hands. "Let's move," she said.

"Way ahead of you!" Zephyr quipped. Astrid shook her head as Zephyr skipped ahead of her. To the old shieldmaiden, her daughter was an anomaly. How can such a young child handle the death of her father so well? 

_'So much like your father,'_ she thought to herself. She longed to hear the warm giggles of her husband -- how she missed him dearly. Even at the face of adversity, he shrugged it off with a smile on his face and a determination that outshone the will of the Gods. If only she was like him.

If only she was there to save him.

**Their deaths are on your hands.**

She shook the thought from her mind. She is Astrid Hofferson, the strongest shieldmaiden in all of the realms. Not even the Valkyries dare to challenge her. She will see this journey to its end, no matter the cost -- even if it means sacrificing her own life. She followed behind Zephyr short thereafter, nibbling a small loaf of bread that she had kept tuck away in one of her satchels.

* * *

The journey was brief, yet filled with surprises. They encountered a field of corpses, their organs scattered across the place, painting the idyllic scene in a coat of blood. Zephyr shut her eyes close. She was not fond of death, not in the slightest; the stench it leaves behind conjured memories she preferred to remain hidden. A crow swoops in from above and lands on one of the corpse. It gnawed on its flesh until it tore apart the body's lifeless eyes from its host.

"Keep your guard up. There might be Neckers roaming about," Astrid warned. They carefully navigated across the field, their feet light, ready to flee at a moment's notice. Zephyr kept her nose shut; the stench was fouler than blue cheese that her grand mother would make for Snoggletog. 

Suddenly, she stepped on something fleshy. She fought the urge to look down, but her curiosity got the best of her. Below her feet lay the soggy remains of a body's entrails, hanging wide in the open, connected only by a thin tube that led to a headless torso. She staggered backwards, crashing onto her mother. Zephyr felt as if her heart can burst any moment, resulting in the addition of a fresh corpse. Astrid gripped her shoulders tightly. She looked at her mother's eyes.

Lifeless, yet, for a brief moment, she saw a hint of fear in her cold, unfaltering expression. Zephyr feared the worst. If her mother is afraid, then whatever caused the bloodied scene before them must be powerful. She clutched her staff tightly, ignoring the sparks of pain from the splinters that were carving into her fingers. They continued their march, slower than before as the number of corpses seemed to increase the closer they were to the outskirts of the forest. In the distance, she heard a gurgling noise, followed by the clattering of teeth. She glanced over her shoulder, her head quivering in fear. She gasped loudly. A small group of blue-skinned Neckers emerged from the ground, their claws sharper than any of the blades that lay scattered across the field. Their large eyes shone a reddish hue, yet despite their eyes, it appeared that they have not noticed them.

The runes on the head of her mother's axe glowed a blueish tint as the monsters moved closer to the pair. It let out a low, ominous hum. She looked at the axe worryingly as she thought the noise would attract the monsters to them, but as the seconds passed, her worry was slowly dismissed. The closest Necker to them raised its chin at the sky before taking inhaling the air around it. The creature let out a series of clicks, followed shortly by the sound of liquid gurgling in its mouth. Zephyr pointed her staff at the monster until her mother put her arms in front of her. 

"Wait," she said authoritatively. She gestured at the other Neckers, who were forming around the lone Necker. They all stared at the pair, their expressions unwavering. Step by step, they drew closer to the pair; and with each step they took, Zephyr began to feel the world twirl around her. "Steady..." 

_'Remember your training, Zephyr. You are a mender.'_ one of the Neckers let out a low growl at the pair. It flashed its teeth at them, jagged and as sharp as a knife. She felt as if her heart can burst out of her chest any moment. Suddenly, a Necker pounced towards them. Zephyr shut her eyes, though she did not feel a trace of pain on her body. She slowly opened her left eye to see the Neckers feasting on an untouched corpse, whose flesh was preserved by the thick layers of mud that covered the body. The Neckers dug into the earth, throwing the earth away from the corpse so that they may feast on their meal properly. Astrid gestured Zephyr backwards. She did not need to decipher what her mother was trying to say. With great deliberation, they stepped back from the group of monsters, their weapons firmly placed in their hands.

They walked discretely until the high-pitch screeches grew faint and distant. Zephyr sighed. Despite her overwhelming fear of monsters, Zephyr could not shake off the thrill of encountering one with her own eyes. The knowledge they possess in their bodies is a mender's dream -- she can only imagine the possibilities if she were to attain the tooth of a Manticore or the ash of a Moonwraith. But deep down, she knew she would never get the chance to meet them in person; she could barely lift a of pebbles off the ground. What chance would she have if she were to go against a Shaelmaar. Her mother looked at her, her firm hands gently rested on Zephyr's right shoulder. 

"You did well, girl," she commented. Zephyr grinned happily, though her skin remained riddled with goosebumps. "They will not attack you unless provoked. Or if they have food in front of them. So as long as you have a slab of raw meat somewhere, you should be fine. But never let your guard down," she continued. "A true warrior is ready to fight in any situation. Even if it leads them to their deaths." Zephyr nodded halfheartedly. She observed the sight before them and, in the corner of her eye, noticed a small column of smoke climbing into the sky.

She pointed at the smoke. "There's something over there," Astrid stared at the smoke in silence. She eyed the ground below them. The tracks were barely discernible, but she could see a light trail of blood that led to the smoke. 

"We're close," she followed the trail, the runes of her axe glowing ever-so-slightly as they drew closer to the column of smoke. Zephyr caught up to her mother, the sound of metal clattering against one another. 

She could scarcely see any trees around her. The land was washed in white -- a field of snow stretching as far as the eye could see. There was a small river that flowed downstream from where the smoke should come from. She noticed the occasional mound, a small protrusion in a generally flat field. A raven-black crow flew above them, letting out its terrible calls. Zephyr felt a shiver crawling down her spine. Eventually, they reached the top of the hill. Zephyr's mouth hung open. Above the tallest peak in the field, she could see the scene before her: A ruined village. Corpses lay in the open, accompanied by streaks of blood sprayed across the wooden walls of the houses. She looked at the source of the smoke -- a burnt house whose structure was barely strong enough for the building to stand, though slightly crooked. A pair of skeletons lay in front of the door, their jaws wide open. Even in their charred forms, Zephyr could sense the fear they felt in their last moments -- the sting of the fire as it tore away through their flesh. 

The young mender cursed her imaginative mind. She mustn't think about it now. Not at a place like this. Not when the threat of death lingered above their heads. Astrid planted the butt of her axe into the ground, letting her arms rest against the head of her axe. The sun glimmered slightly above the horizon, painting her in an orange hue. Her brilliant blue eyes struck out, her gaze fixed on the village below them. She wondered what her mother be thinking about, for she could not see a single glimpse of emotion from her eyes. 

What weight is she carrying on her shoulder?

Astrid mused at the cloudless sky. "It's getting darker," she commented quickly.

Zephyr nodded. "Yeah, it has," she loosened her grip on her staff. "Do you want to rest here or--" 

"No," the shieldmaiden interrupted. Zephyr pouted in annoyance, though her mother did not seem to notice. "It's too dangerous. We'll search the village first. Only until I'm certain that the direwolves are no longer a threat will we make camp." she raised her axe from the ground. Zephyr squirmed at the gust of wind blowing against her exposed arms. She fixed her coat and huddled deeper into her shoulders. 

With a stern look on their faces, the two travellers marched towards the ruined village, leaving behind the world they once knew.


End file.
